So I Heard the Rumors
by Alterik
Summary: When Sigyn was a girl, Loki had asked her a question. The question had seemed harmless, but now as a woman, she wonders if the question was not so harmless. If so, then the consequences will not be harmless either. Sigyn/Theoric & Sigyn/Loki
1. Chapter 1

**_So I Heard the Rumors_**

* * *

><p>The ocean foam gently tickled their feet as it popped against their skin. The water washed the sand around their feet, slowly burying them alive. The two seemed all the more encouraged by the ocean to squeeze the sand in between their toes. On the toppling waves the swans crooned their love songs to one another as they did every morning. Next to them swam the gulls that were ready to jump on any opportunistic meal presented to them. With their beady black eyes, the gulls over the Asgardians since the people had become accustomed to feeding the little wenches and beggars.<p>

Loki sat on the beach, only partially dressed. The warm ocean breeze and Sigyn's delicate fingers had beckoned him to remove several layers of his clothes; he highly suspected that Sigyn's fingers had more to do with his disheveled appearance than the wind. He didn't mind. The feeling of her soft, cool, and nimble fingers brushing against his fiery skin always sent a wave of mischief through his veins. His mouth would curl into that particular smirk of you-should-know-better, we-shouldn't-be-doing-this, and what-would-Theoric-say-if-they-found-you-with-me-like-this as she stripped him down to nothing but his chocolate pants, which were rolled up to avoid the water. The rest of the trickster's attire was scattered carelessly across the beach. He would always smile end up smiling, like he did now, with his chin resting on her left shoulder.

Sigyn was sat in between his legs with her arms in twined with Loki's; their fingers meshed together in ways she knew went beyond the bounds of their relationship. She did not dwell on those thoughts for they only brought more sadness to her already tired bones. So she pressed her nearly bare back to Loki's chest. Only small slivers of her baby grass grebe dress covered her left shoulder blade and the small of her back. Tiny, golden flowers were weaved onto the trimming; they had been placed there by Loki to match her floral crown. The tips of the short, summer dressed were already fading from the ocean. With each pulse of the ocean, Sigyn's Irish red hair would wash over the sand and then be pulled back to the depths of the ocean. Pieces of that red hair clung to her soft, doll face.

"And so Fandral stole a kiss from Sif," Loki finished. Sigyn was giggling underneath him like a child. Well, she still was a child. Slender, gangly, and graceful, Sigyn still lacked those feminine curves, tender breasts, and woman's scorn. Loki was grateful that she had remained a child for so long; he cared not to deal with another woman going into puberty. Dealing with Sif had been rough enough on all of them. Frigga and Odin considered all five of them a miracle that no one had died during those hormone throbbing days. He could not imagine Sigyn turning as spiteful as Sif. Sigyn was much too sweet and gentle to ever be as bold as Sif, but he didn't want to take the chance. Women were a strange breed…

Loki dreaded the day she became a woman because she would no longer be the free nymph she was now. Men would be swooning for her attention; well, some already were. Sigyn was an exotic beauty in Asgard. She was fragile, much too fragile for her own good. He knew her bones to be brittle like the seashells they had stepped on the beach. Simple falls had caused her to break her bones and go to the healers. If she did not eat, she became prone to fainting. On days when the north wind blew, Sigyn would shake uncontrollably. She always had this hungry look to her yellow wolf eyes. No matter how much she ate, she always looked hungry, starving. She had little meat on her bones. The sadness in her bones seeped through her thin, light sun kissed skin. It hung around her like a puppy. He had wondered one more than one occasion if the sadness weren't the cause for her thin, sickly body.

"Sif should listen more to you, Loki," Sigyn answered. Her voice was different than those of the Aesir clan. Like most of the Vanir, her voice was deeper, huskier, and came out more like growls than actual words. He knew that her accent to be stronger, but while in his presence, Sigyn made an effort to speak with more of an Aesir dialect so he could understand her. But there were days when she would forget and ramble off in the Vanir dialect. Loki would be more lost than a colt separated from his mother. "She is much to masculine though. I feel she is ashamed to have been born a woman. Thor should make a woman out of her."

Loki raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What would Sigyn know of womanhood?" His voice was playful and taunting. He watched as she flushed as red as her hair beneath him. She darted her eyes to him before looking at the sand. She bit her fat, lower lip as she did whenever he teased her. The mischievous leaned his head closer to hers. "Would Njord's dearest daughter not be pure? That would mean she would be a harlot, no?" His words were smooth and too endearing to be taken as an insult. She was holding back a fit of giggles. Already he could feel her chest beginning to shake with laughter. His heart felt light as the air they breathed. "Of course, that would mean the man who slept with her would be her husband already. All he would have to do to make it official would be to pay her father and give her a gift of the grandest scale."

Sigyn twisted her head. There was hesitation in her eyes, while Loki looked at her with those taunting green eyes. He was teasing her and playing her for all the joke was worth. The girl's heart was fluttering in her chest. She held her mouth slightly apart, but Loki knew no words would come from her mouth. He had seen this look many times before. Those large, wolf eyes would stare at him with wonder, want, and sadness; she would clench his hands tighter; Sigyn's breathing would become shallow, almost panicked. Loki freed his hands from her grip.

She looked at the golden ring on his little finger. Loki had never been one to wear rings or any form of accessories. He needed the room to carry his daggers and other trickery into battle. The ring appeared to be made of yet not. The numerous bands seemed to be made of billions of microscopic, yellow diamonds. In the early sunlight, different colors came out from them. She held her breath, wondering if the ring held the essence of a thousand splendid suns. The ring was composed of hundreds of hair-thin threads. They had been weaved together in a tight, Celtic knot. Depending on the angle of the ring, she saw the Trinity, Dara, Quaternary, or Five Fold symbol.

"Beautiful, no?" Loki inquired. He carefully held the ring so that the sunlight could dance off and through the ring and light up all the strands. "The dwarves make the finest blacksmiths. Their creations make those of Asgard look like nothing special. This though, this is the crowning of their creations."

"I wondered where you had disappeared for all those moons, Loki," Sigyn admitted.

"Did you worry?" the god inquired.

"No," she replied. "I worry more for Thor wandering on his own than you. You have your magic and mind. Even if you were falling off into space you would find a way to save yourself. You are resourceful. For that I am glad because I needn't ever worry of you."

Loki was the one to chuckle at the compliment. His eyes flirted with hers for a few fleeting seconds afterwards. He slid the ring onto Sigyn's ring finger. She caught her breath. She felt her heart jump erratically in her chest. Loki saw the sadness cling to her eyes the longer she stared so fondly at the ring. Then she looked to him. His emerald eyes were still light, teasing, and warm.

Still, she remained silent.

He knew what she waited to hear. The trickster saw the hurt; he too felt a pang of that hurt in his chest. It wasn't sharp, not anymore, but the hurt was still there between his ribs. Loki blinked slowly and wiped himself clean. "Forgive me, Sigyn, I do not mean to insult your engagement to Theoric. I mean this as a simple joke to Sif," he explained a little too happily. The happiness in his voice was not genuine. Sigyn could hear the strain in his voice. "She will be envious of you, as with the rest of Asgard. I look forward to seeing her reaction to such a beauty this evening."

Relief washed over the young girl. Sigyn nodded as she accepted her part in the joke too easily. She resumed her normal breathing and relaxed stature. Loki regretfully felt relief as she leaned against him. He braced himself with his hands at either side. Sigyn pressed her cheek to his face. Through content eyes, he watched as she played the sunlight so she could gain the desire glow off of the ring. A tender smirk sprouted upon his lips. Indeed all of Asgard would be hungry for a look at the ring. A gift of this magnitude would put any other gift to shame. Loki felt proud of himself with the knowledge that any gift Theoric would give to Sigyn could never rival this. He only swelled with more pride. This would be his greatest insult to the warrior. Loki only hoped Theoric would be half as smart as Thor to realize the insult.

The insult lessened the hurt he felt, the anger towards Njord, and the chaos that had been brewing inside of him since he learned of Sigyn's engagement.

The ring only increased his hunger, his greed, and his desire to make her his and his alone.

"So," Loki began in that smooth, rolling, hypothetical voice. Sigyn's hair brushed against him as she looked up to him. He was smirking and scheming up another plot to expose the girl's weakness in a kind, gentle fashion that he only did for her. He would never spare Sigyn of his trickery but merely twist his words in a way that would never harm her. "If I were to fall into the heavens below us, would you follow me?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Fun little one-shot unless people think I should continue it. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**_So I Heard the Rumors_**

* * *

><p>The days had come and gone since the beginning of the end. Asgard seemed to hold its breath as all of the people waited to catch the sound of Heimdall's horn sounding off from the bifrost. Indeed, the rest of the realms too seemed apprehensive and timid from the idea that Ragnarok was upon them. This, of course, went unnoticed on Midgard; but alas, Midgard had become aloof to the gods, choosing to forsake them for a new deity called Jesus. In an odd way, Midgard's ignorance was welcomed. Life continued onwards; the people did not hold back like the other races did. At least there was one place in the entire Tree that was normal.<p>

But Midgard and its ignorance were far away from Asgard...

Rumors had spread like wildfire that the prophets on Midgard were correct—Loki, the greatest trickster the universe had ever witnessed, had betrayed them to lead the giants into Ragnarok. The people of Asgard worried greatly that he would appear and slay their great guardian, Heimdall, before he could sound his golden horn. To Thor's horror, the people had begun to place small livestock outside their house; they only prayed Fenrir would take the small piglets or chicks over their children. So, not to his surprise but nonetheless to his anger, the people had renamed Loki's title: the god of evil.

To his shock, people within the royal palace, people who had seen both he and Loki grow since they were but infants, agreed with these rumors. Among one of these people had been Sif. A great wound had been struck to the thunder god's heart when she had revealed the truth to him some days after the beginning. Though Sif and Loki had never been great friends, he by no means ever thought she held contempt in her heart for his brother. After all they had been through, all the blood they had shed for each other, all the centuries spent beside each other, and she dared to throw that all away? Did all of that mean so little to the Lady Sif?

She had apologized for her feelings towards Loki, but no amount of words could spare Thor of the reality that his brother was no longer welcomed in Asgard. No people considered having a meeting with Allfather to discuss the possibility of searching for Loki. The only person who had even asked Heimdall to search for Loki, or what remained of him, came from a mourning, crying, distraught Frigga. Though the tears stained her face, reddened her eyes to the point where they looked like a Jotun's eyes, and the lines on her face became as deep as the sea that surrounded Asgard, Heimdall had said no. Odin, Allfather, _his_ father, had held his mother while she wept and begged him to search for Loki.

Still, Odin gave her no answer.

Did his father fear that he would lose Frigga if he told her no?

Or did he fear that if he told her yes, all they would find would be a body to bring home?

Thor was not like his brother who was good at reading body language, but the golden child—that was the new title Asgard had bestowed upon him after the beginning—new his father was most certainty not angry with Loki. If anything, Loki had _always_ been the one to get away with actions that would have placed Thor in banishment to Midgard many times over. Thor had always envied Loki, for no matter what his brother did, Loki either talked his way out of trouble or Odin showed leniency towards him. His—their father had always been soft with Loki. Thor had always thought Loki the favored child as a result.

Sure Allfather had given him the throne, but he showed patience and love with Loki. He poured so much more of his time into Loki in an attempt to understand his second son. Odin encouraged the pale prince's abilities, giving unto him his own hall so that he may fill it with scrolls of magic and practice without disturbance. In return, Loki had built a golden wall for Asgard to protect them from the Jotun. The people had loved Loki for his generosity to Asgard; loved him as much as they had their golden boy.

Oh how quickly that love turned to hate.

Thor found himself hating Asgard's people for hating Loki. He himself had not forgiven Loki for what he did—Thor wasn't sure if he ever would forgive the trickster—but that did not mean he did not stop loving his brother. No, he mourned Loki because he still loved his brother. He never wished any harm to bestow him for his deeds. The thunder god wasn't sure if he wished Loki to be forgiven by Allfather for his deeds so they he may forgive him or to understand why Loki had done the deeds he had done. Allfather would not tell him what had come over his brother.

Without any answers, Thor had felt lost, disconnected, and grief.

His isolation had become noticeable.

In response, Odin had declared tonight be blessed with a grand feast, full of music, mead, and life. Thor, for once in his life, dreaded dragging his lead-filled feet to the mead hall. In his room, Thor could hear the echoes of the feast beginning without him … without Loki's grand illusions. He knew this feast would not be grand his father proclaimed. How could any feast be grand without Loki's great entertainment? It was his brother that made the feasts grand with his stories, magic, and wit. Loki was like a fish in water at feasts. He may have been cold at first but never was he more at home than socializing. These feasts were great because he was able to flaunt his silver tongue openly. For once, Loki took the spotlight over Thor.

And Thor didn't mind.

"Will you not come, Thor?"

Sif's voice stirred Thor. He raised his head to Sif. The warrior maiden stood in the doorway, across Thor's wide room; it felt like a canyon separated them with the golden floor not coated in any debris. Not to say his room was ever messy. Thor spent too much time outside his room to ever cause much of a mess—Loki had been the one that had scrolls tossed across the floor, failed experiments leaking strange colored substances onto the ground, and sometimes drops of blood. Thor's room was spacious, only including a rack for his armor in the corner next to an oak dresser, a large window and balcony to the South where storms gathered along the sea, his bed to the north to gaze out upon the storms, a collection of swords next to his armor, and a door to the East.

The prince's golden locks hung around his bronze face like a bad cloud. He sat hunched over, pondering much on his mind. That was another trait that separated him from Loki. Loki could ponder every outcome in a matter of seconds. Thor took minutes if not hours to arrive at the same conclusion. It was not simply because Thor was any less intelligent, but his mind operated differently than Loki's. He did not think about the possibilities as coldly as his brother. He took into account the passion of each possibility and explored that passion before either approving or disapproving of that course of action. Sif could see Thor had engrossed himself in this thinking.

"I hunger not for feasts in times of these, Sif," Thor confided. "I do not see how anyone could desire to feast when Asgard has lost a great son."

In her gleaming, golden top and ebony pants, she looked more man than woman. He supposed if it weren't for her breasts, she could pull off being manly. Not that it took away from her beauty; it only made her that much more exotic in Asgard. Sif was never one to bestow comfort onto people. She saw comfort as too much of a woman's trait. The maiden went as far as she could to rid herself of any feminine trait by becoming a great warrior in single combat. But for once, sympathy spilled onto her face. She gazed upon Thor with a heavy heart. For her to cross the room and place a hand on his shoulder was a great effort on her part to rekindle what had been lost in the beginning. "All wounds heal in time," she offered. Sif confidently smiled.

Thor could not return the smile. Sif's positive smile became a meager frown. She sighed. "Time will heal the wounds, but no amount of time will rid me of these scars from the wounds," Thor answered. He placed his large hand over Sif's. He so easily weaved his fingers between hers. Thor could brag that he knew Sif's hand as well as the back of his hand. There was content to be found in knowing some aspects of their lives had not changed. For that, the thunder god was grateful. "Shall I be your escort this evening, Sif?"

She shook her head. "No, Thor," she replied. "Fandral the romantic has insisted he be my escort this evening." There was an exhausted tone to her voice, but nonetheless a warm tone to his comrade's offer. Thor shook his head while grinning. Sif too grinned. "I am half expecting him to pledge his ever lasting love to me…" Her dark eyes darted to Thor; he looked back at her, seeing the hurt stir in her soul. Her face was tighter, and her smile no longer genuine. Sif could see the apology written in his eyes. Thor squeezed her hand for it was the only comfort he could offer her. "But—" She was not one to dwell on her emotions. Sometimes, like now, Thor worried if her need to be masculine didn't do her more harm than good. "Sigyn needs a new escort. Will you escort her?"

Thor raised his left brow to Sif's unusual kindness. "Since when has the great Sif cared for Sigyn?" he questioned. "You and she are docile enemies on the best of days…"

"Typically not, but Theoric is down at the feast with no Sigyn by his side," Sif explained. "From what the rumors are, Sigyn has been a scarce sight in Njord's hall."

"As if that is new," Thor remarked. "Sigyn is _always_ shy. She is incapable of speaking here without—" He hesitated as his mind was dragged back to the memories of his fallen brother. "Without Loki here," the thunder god finished. "Even when my brother was here, she hardly spoke two words to Allfather, let alone anyone else."

"Yes, she is, Thor, but apparently she has never been _this_ shy." Sif paused for a moment as the sound of Njord's deep laugh echoed up to the room. There was a strain to his voice that could not go unnoticed. "Njord is concerned for her since she is still young into her womanhood. He was not able to find her before he left and worries. Theoric yearns to go after his fiancée; however, he is needed at the feast so that he may propose a toast for better days."

Thor knew when Sif was giving a gift, no matter how subtle. "Thank you," he offered. Sif nodded. Regretfully, she pulled her hand out from underneath Thor's. He could see the remorse in her actions, and he knew inside Sif she was beating herself up for showing this much weakness. Thor stood up and quickly wrapped the young maiden in his arms. Sif was rigid as always and refused to give into what she wanted most because it would never be how she wanted his affection. Still, this would be the apology she would have to settle for again. Thor sighed into her long, raven locks. "Enjoy yourself, Sif."

Sif pulled away from Thor before her knees would give out from her weight. "I shall do my best, Thor," she promised; her voice told Thor she did so only because of all they had endured, of their trust, and the love they shared for each other as deep friends. Swiftly she turned on her heels and headed for the door. Sif took one last glance of Thor in all his glorious armor before disappearing behind the wall.

Thor did not hesitate to seize his beloved Mjollnir and dash off through his balcony. With a simple jump, the Aesir god was as weightless and free as his father's messenger ravens. Asgard was spread beneath him. In the setting sunlight, the grand, shining city on a hill sparkled with the sun's fading colors of blue, purple, red, orange, and pink. Even the sea that encompassed them did not appear blue, but a shade of yellow, orange, and pink on the surface. Blue flecks would sparkle off of its smooth surface. All too soon, distinguishing the ocean from the sky became impossible. The time of Rökkr was upon Asgard.

The thunder god look ahead at the dying sun and saw a tiny black dot. There, he would go to where the exiled king of Njord had made his hall on Aesir soil. Loki had told him the trip took three days on horseback to reach the Vanir hall. He told Thor that he had often transformed himself into a salmon to make the trip quicker and more interesting. Granted, on more than one occasion, Loki had been caught in a net by the local fishermen. The fishermen would be shocked, as they would haul up a full man and prince of Asgard in their net. Every time Odin's hall would burst into laughter when Loki would drag his wet self back to his room. Everyone would hear the trickster ranting on how he was running late now to a meeting with Njord.

Then he, the Warriors Three, and Lady Sif would laugh at the then twenty year-old trickster. No one had quite understood then why Loki was so interested in visiting the hostage-king's hall for silly social calls that Huginn and Muninn could have settled. He recalled how his mother would smile at his slender son while chiding at Thor to be quiet. Odin, too, seemed to chuckle at Loki's actions, but never did he condone him. No, Thor and the others had thought Allfather was encouraging Loki by sending him on these social calls. Well, they hadn't been bothered by Loki's actions at first, but after a while, the halls became dull without Loki creating chaos. Allfather remarked one day how the four of them seemed bored without Thor's brother. To their surprise, Odin admitted he was bored without Loki.

Three years after Loki's unusual behavior had begun, on the longest day, Odin held a great feast for no occasion. Well, no occasion until the hostage-king and his family arrived. Loki rode beside them on the chestnut horse Glenr with a gangly girl wrapped in a green, fish-like dress holding onto him. The girl was obviously not of Vanir blood because of her wolf eyes—the Vanir have bird black pupils with a golden iris of a sea gull. She was not built like a Vanir; Sigyn was much too frail and sickly looking. Thor nor his comrades could tell of what race she belonged. To which they decided she was a half-breed.

Almost immediately, the group knew why Loki was always running off to the hostage-king's hall. The way Loki was careful, patient, and tender with the young child was not character for Thor's calculating, sly, and mischievous brother. The child clung to Loki's side and held his large hand in her small hand. Her wavy fiery hair trailed behind her like Loki's green cloak did in the ocean breeze. All night, Thor, the trio, and lady were waiting for Loki spit out foul words or a cruel trick upon the ever so shy girl. Instead, he had her sitting on his lap, rattling off to her in Vanir tongue. The groups of friends realized before long that Loki was keeping her attention on him so that she would not notice the stares Odin's guests were giving her.

All of them had been floored that Loki was acting as her protector.

Sif had sworn that Loki was only being her protector for some awful prank. They had agreed with the warrior maiden. Loki never did anything without a purpose…

Sigyn—they only learned her name later when she left with Njord—was much different than they had originally thought. She had strange eyes that reminded them of a light elf, Ljósálfar. Of course, she had red hair like the Ljósálfar. Though distinctively, or maybe not, Sigyn had more golden skin like an Asgardian. Each and every one of Thor's friends, and even himself, were a bit disgusted by her clearly mixed heritage. Thor was even ashamed that Loki associated with someone of bad blood.

His disgust for Sigyn's heritage never quelled. Yet, out of that disgust, Thor understood why no one knew of Sigyn outside of the hostage-king's hall. Njord was deeply protection of his foundling. The exiled king had kept the girl confined to his hall so that she wouldn't have to endure any ridicule. To his surprise, Loki was genuinely protective of Sigyn; hence forth, Loki went to the Vanir hall instead of bringing her to Odin's hall. He hadn't wanted Thor or his allies to know of her because they would think ill of her because of her blood. To some extent, Thor felt Loki had to be ashamed of her heritage and kept her secret as a result. After all, she would never be anything but a half-breed, even with being a foundling to an exiled king.

Henceforth why, Thor was assuming this now, Loki never courted Sigyn. Not to say Sigyn wasn't a beautiful maiden—Thor would admit in private he had lusted after her some nights—but she, and he hated the way it sounded inside of his head, was not deserving of Loki. Sigyn had done nothing special or been born of royal blood. He loathed the feeling of being a hypocrite since Jane was not of royal blood either, but, there was always a but, she had aided him during his time on Midgard. For that, stories would be told of the Midgardian who helped a god. That alone made her worthy of him. Already people were telling rumors of the new goddess, Jane.

Thor landed on the soft sands of the Vanir hall. Under his own weight, the thunder god sank an inch into the white sand. The waves rolled over his feet, causing him to sink farther into the icky, sticky sand. He couldn't hide the scowl. The warrior looked to his right, acknowledging the thick thicket and woods that lined the beach for miles. The spring flowers on the trees and bushes were turning brown around the edges from the early summer heat. The grass atop the beach dunes was charred brown and sickly yellow.

Not but fifteen yards away, Thor set his gaze upon the chocolate woodland reindeer. The bull's impressive antlers appeared to be as tall and wide as Thor. The deadly points were only amplified in the dying sunlight—the sun was just a sliver above the horizon. The ocean curled around the animal's hocks. Atop the great beast was a small, relative to the animal, person. In the sunlight, he saw the person's flame colored hair dance to the rhythm of the wind. The reindeer turned in his in the same direction as his masters, towards Thor.

"Sigyn," Thor called as he approached.

As a woman, she kept her doll face, childish eyes, fat lower lip, and thick, red eyelashes. But much about her had changed. She was no longer gangly but by no means a robust woman. She was slender with a tiny waist and no hips or bottom. If it weren't for her tiny waist, she would look more like a man than a woman. The best way Thor could describe her body was stringy and lithe like a foal but alien all the same. In fact, like a foal, she was small, perhaps five feet at most. That too, he assumed came from her Ljósálfar blood. Sigyn had breasts that were neither small nor large. She had a long neck that only added to her fragile, doll appearance. Like most Vanir women, she had shaven the right side of her head to demonstrate she was engaged—the rest of her head she would shave off for her wedding day.

The hair that was left tickled the bottom of the reindeer's creamy barrel. A vine of white flowers ran through her hair. On her expose right side Thor could see the flexible, bat-like ear that was trademark of the light elves. Anymore she looked full Ljósálfar. Especially since her skin had been bleach of all its color and glistened more like diamonds than actual skin. Had Loki sat next to her, he would have looked like he was tan. In a way, she seemed ghostly as a result. Thor was left to wonder if this was indeed the tan, little girl who had been able to expose a different side to his brother.

Perhaps Loki was right? Maybe Sigyn wasn't a half-breed but a full Ljósálfar?

For her sake, Thor dearly hoped…

Like always, Sigyn was dressed in a simple, faded emerald dress. The material was light as a feather and loose against her body. The dress wrapped her neck into a knot that draped over her right shoulder. Her back was exposed, and Thor could not help but watch as the sunlight danced off the sprinkles of water that rolled down her smooth skin. Of course, he could not ignore the shimmer off her left hand. He smiled. There was still someone who loved Loki as much as he and honored him through wearing his ring.

She tipped her head to Thor as he came beside her. Not to his surprise, Sigyn did not address him verbally. Instead she regarded him with weary eyes and tightened her grip on the leather reins that bound the beast to her will. "I have been sent to retrieve you for Theoric. Your presence is much missed in Odin's hall tonight," Thor spoke through his rolling, vibrant voice. Sigyn merely bent her head forward; her hair covered her eyes. He was left to guess what her facial expression was. "Will you not come, Sigyn?"

"I shall not, my golden prince," Sigyn spoke. Her voice was light and soft as a whisper, but the words were growls that came from a wolf. The words were hard to understand. This was just more reason Thor disliked the Vanir dialect.

"May I inquire as to why?" Thor questioned.

She was silent. Thor sighed. Of course, Sigyn would never answ—"I have been recalling Loki as of late. It has been some years since he left us, and that date will be upon us in a few weeks." She baffled the thunder god. She had spoken more words to him in a moment than she had in all the years he had known her. "Nearly four years have passed… I wonder how many more years he shall be gone from us before he graces Asgard with his presence once more," Sigyn told through a sorrowful voice.

Thor stared hard at her and her words. "My brother is no longer with us, Sigyn," he corrected painfully. He felt his heart weigh heavier than it had in years. Quiet literally he was scared that his heart would fall through his chest and plop down on the sand. "He will never strut in Asgard again."

She giggled.

The fifteen year-old dared to giggle at his brother's death!

He growled. The anger boiled in his stomach. Of any person in Asgard, the last to laugh at Loki's death would have been, besides his family, Sigyn. She had been so terribly close to him. She had been Loki's shadow, always following him either in person or spirit. "Explain yourself," Thor demanded viciously.

Sigyn looked to him with a soft, childish smirk. "I do not believe Loki is dead," she explained lightly. "Loki is simply hiding. He shall be back when he feels ready. I shall wait for him to return as always."

"How would you know if Loki is dead or not?" Thor inquired; his voice was bitter and raw like a lemon. "I saw my brother fall into the heavens with the bifrost with my own eyes. Allfather was a witness to the tragedy."

She grinned bigger and shook her head from side-to-side. "No, no," Sigyn replied politely. "Loki is alive. I am as sure of it as the sun will raise tomorrow, my golden prince. Loki would have told me goodbye if he did not plan on returning to Asgard." Her golden wolf eyes rested on Thor, not with blind hope but confidence. She ran her fingers over the golden ring Loki had given her years earlier. Her eyes and Thor's fell on the ring. "Have faith and continue to love him, my golden prince. That is the most you can do until he returns." With a light kick, Sigyn ordered her beast to head to her father's hall.

"How can you be so confident in him?" Thor inquired as he walked beside the reindeer.

Sigyn looked down upon him, though not with any negative emotions. "You should know, my golden prince. You are his brother," she commented.

Thor found the goddess easy to talk to; this surprised him, pleasantly mind you. Her soft voice was soothing, positive, and warm. He was reminded that the Vanir were peaceful, wise people who dwelled more in the present and future than the past. The thunder god welcomed the change of tone. He was growing tired of living in the past and being surrounded by people who spoke of rumors through cruel tones. "I fear I may not be his brother," Thor confided.

"Why would you doubt your bond?" Sigyn asked.

Thor was hesitant to speak of that fateful day. The wound was still raw, and what little healing his heart had felt was ripped away. "He claimed I was not his brother," he spoke; his voice was strained. Her face was grave, and she looked forward. Thor could sense the change in her mood. Thor squeezed his eyebrows together. "You are not surprised, Sigyn?"

"No," she whispered. She took in a deep breath. "The turmoil in Loki was growing before your coronation. He had been losing his way for some time. I could see it in the threads, Thor." Sigyn hung her head low, maybe in defeat, sorrow, or a combination. But best yet, she spoke to him as a mourning friend instead of a prince. "He had not been happy with Asgard in some years. I assume he felt caged here, trapped, and condemned to be your shadow as Odin's blood brother had been to him." Sigyn was choking on the inside from guilt. She could not hold back the tears that pooled along her eyes and overran onto her cheeks. "I fear he shall not come back to Asgard because he is now a free raven."

Thor could only looked forward. He had never been good with comforting or offering comforting words. No, he never knew what to say, and more often than not, his words came out wrong like his father's. The thunder god never meant ill by his words, but he never could grasp the art of weaving them to his will. So, he had learned he was best to remain silent and allow his brother to speak for him. "I will trust your word, Sigyn," Thor said. "For you may have known him better than I."

"But he loved you more than I, Thor," Sigyn quickly replied. The reindeer halted in front of the hostage-king's gate. The gate was created out of out of limestone, coral, and wood. Like the Vanir, there was no intricate design engraved on the smooth surface or bright gold. It was simple and elegant like their life. The gate began to push itself open when in the presence of Sigyn. Thor caught a glimpse of a grassy field behind the gate. A small herd of reindeer was grazing. Some trees dotted the landscape, offering shade to the new reindeer young. Far off Thor only saw the shadows of the buildings that the Vanir royalty called home.

"I bid thee a farewell, my golden prince," she spoke. "Tell Theoric I shall await his return."

"Sigyn," he called. The lady stopped her beast. She looked over her small shoulders at Thor. "Your last statement; did you love my brother?"

There was that same, nervous, painful smile Sif had adorned earlier than evening. She turned her head away from his for a second. She licked her lips before chewing and sucking on her bottom lip. Her bottom lipped flared bloody red. Sigyn sighed before saying, "Of course," she answered in a whisper. "I shall never stop to love Loki. He is my greatest friend."

"No," Thor corrected; he pinched his nose, hating how his words came out wrong _again_. "I mean as lovers. Did you ever want to marry him?" Sigyn stared at him with large, cautious eyes. "I am not meaning to intrude on your personal business; I am simply trying to understand what brought my brother to let go. I feel as if I never truly knew him. I feel as if you may be the only one who knew him."

She held her head like a small child would to make his or her self appear smaller and more innocent, less threatening. "Indeed, I know much of Loki, but Thor," Sigyn replied patiently. "Loki is not one to give away his secrets easily. I shall honor that aspect of him by keeping the secrets in trusted to me a secret." She felt warmth inside of her chest. The warmth relaxed her strained, tense heart with the knowledge that he had enough trust to tell her secrets he would not dare tell his brother. To be chosen by Loki with his trust was as great as to be appointed one of Odin's sentry guards like Theoric.

Thor nodded, seeming to understand her. He would not push to lose what little trust Sigyn had in him through demanding questions. "I shall respect your wishes, Sigyn," he commented; there was bitterness to his voice. The bitterness wasn't out of spite, but the heartache he felt. She offered him a kind smile before commanding her beast forward once more. The gates of the hostage-king's hall closed around her till he could see no more of the Ljósálfar girl.

Thor stood outside the gate pondering till the moon was high in the sky. Then he narrowed his eyes upon the broken bifrost. His heart raced with an idea and new hope. He reached for his hammer and thrust the weapon forward. He launched himself into the air towards the one person who was gifted enough to see any and all things in the universe, Heimdall.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thank you to Lila, Yuzu, Ox King, and byebye-babeh for reviewing! You guys deserve a bunch of giant chocolate chip cookies!

Here's another chapter. I'm still unsure whether to continue this or not. I guess we'll see...


	3. Chapter 3

**_So I Heard the Rumors_**

* * *

><p>The hostage-king's hall was nothing like that of Asgardian architecture. There was no complexity to the one-level, limestone and wood buildings. In fact, there were no doors on any of the buildings. Doors were something of a taboo to the Vanir and represented separation and independence—the Vanir are known for their community and dependence upon one another. The waist high grass and singing wild flowers ran all the way up to the edge of the buildings. Vines grew on the side of the six buildings, covering up most of the limestone. Small birds had made their nest here, raised a family, and sang to the exiled Vanir every morning. Spiders spun their silver threads over the windows. On moist morning, the dew would glisten like diamonds. In the right light, could make many small rainbows. Dirt paths had eventually come about in this spacious hall, but only because the servants took the same path every day, not because the paths were made; the servants had made them with their own two bare feet. A small stream that ran from king's fountain in the garden provided the reindeer, domesticated wolves, and small, delicate trees with their water.<p>

Warm, comforting fires were in the center of each building to provide warmth and company. Great pits had been built for the fires and were maintained on a daily basis. The floors of these single roomed buildings were made of gold. Unlike what most Aesir proclaimed, these floors were cleaned and kept clean. For at the entrance of every building was a clean trough of water, soup, and towel. Whenever a person came to a building, they were expected to clean their feet before entering. The Vanir's cleanliness surprised many Aesir. There were days when a Vanir would take up to three baths to rid themselves of the day's dirt, grim, and problems. Naturally, the Vanir made the best smelling soups, perfumes, and lotions so that they never smelled but pleasant.

As Loki remarked many times over, the Vanir's simplicity gave them their greatest beauty. He could appreciate the open spaces and utter lack of eyes upon oneself. More or less, a person could feel as if they were alone when inside Njord's hall. The gardens that spread in between the circular buildings and sprawled outwards were no exception. The gardens, as he was told, had originally been kept in the center of all the buildings, but over time nature had expanded them. Tall trees reached up to kiss the bottom of the clouds and flirt with the stars; their many branches often tangled with other branches to form small but sturdy bridges above the ground. Vines with blooming orange flowers weaved in between the gaps in the trees. Moss, protected by the direct sunlight from the tree's broad leaves, made the trees soft and lovely to rest on or against.

Because there was so much shade from the trees, often the grass grew no taller than a few inches; though in pockets of sunlight the grass was known to spiral, literally, upwards to six or seven feet. Flowers fought with the grass in these spotty patches. In some cases, a fruit bush would be present instead of a flower or grass; their green and orange fruits would be heavy with water and sweetness. On many of these bushes, their fruits had grown so that a man would have to cup the egg-shaped fruit with both hands. But the bushes were not the only vegetation to bear food. Several of the eldest trees gave the Vanir olives. There were dwarf trees as well that provided them with oranges, cherries, pears, peaches, and apples.

The garden was living feast.

In the center of the garden was a pound where beautiful, giant koi fish swam. The water was clear as glass. The bottom of the pond was not mud or dirt but crystal sand that had been ground up from sea glass. A few of Sigyn's most precious shells lay at the bottom where no one could disturb them. Often she thought the man-sized koi fish protected them, as they would hover over the shells if someone swam too close to the shells. At the north end of the pond, water spilt out through the hill, down the rocks, and into the pond. The water was fresh like spring and cool enough to fight off the harshest of sore throats.

These gardens had been everything to Sigyn, a home, a teacher, and a kind friend. The gardens hid her when she wished to be alone, like now.

In the Vanir gardens, the stars shone brighter here than anywhere else in the Tree. The winked, sparkled, kissed, and danced in the bleak blackness that covered the nine realms in despair. Sigyn stared longingly at the distant stars. Her eyes were sore, puffy, and red from the tears. Every blink left her eyes screaming. She felt as if her eyelids had become sandpaper. She physically could not shed any more tears, but the sobs still came from deep within her heart as they did every night for Loki. The fair maiden's face was no so fair anymore. The tears had left a blazing red trail across her pinkeye pink cheeks. Sigyn took the edge of her dress to wipe away the drying tears.

What would Loki say to her if he suddenly arrived and found her in this state?

He wouldn't say a word. The trickster would move around her, scoop her up into his arms, and hold her there against his chest like she was a babe.

Sigyn's breath stuttered. A pair of warm hands was on either of her shoulders. On the back of her neck was the soft feeling of hot breath against her skin. She froze, watching as the moonlight rippled off the pond's waves. Every muscle in her body was contracting, tensing, and preparing for the worst. The entity moved the hair to the side and placed a kiss on her neck. "Shhhh," he hushed in a soothing, smooth voice. "Do not weep another sob, Sigyn." His hands trailed her back, following the curve of her tiny waist. She tightly closed her eyes, hating the feeling that she was being undressed with his eyes. "You're so beautiful," he whispered to her ear before kissing it.

He rested his chin her shoulder, breathing in her soft, ocean scent. The weight her shoulder felt familiar and warm, but she dared not to open her eyes. Her heart was fluttering in her chest with delight that she hadn't felt in years. She didn't want to open her eyes in case this was all a dream in her head. "Have you missed me?" The voice was distinctly Loki. Her silence was her voice, but a tender, loving tear from her heart was her answer. The trickster kissed the tear. He licked his lips; they were salty. "I have missed you, too." His voice was tender and as loving as she remembered.

Gently Loki stroked her bare back with the back of his hand. Electric shocks flowed through her body and counter-acted her tense muscles. She slid too easily back into his chest, her head finding her favorite nook in between his shoulder and head. "But you didn't come for me like you promised." His venomous whisper sounded more like a thought inside her head. The voice, though low, was icy. Her heart was struck down from an icicle that came from his inner most hatred. "You broke your promise!"

Sigyn shot her eyes open.

"Theoric!" she squeaked; she found herself too relieved that she lied against Theoric's chest and not Loki's. She was too relieved too offer much comfort. Theoric, sensing her the near panic attack rising in her body undid his arms from her abdomen. Sigyn pulled away, tripping over her knees and feet. She turned to face the newly appointed Sentry. He looked back at she with an apology written in his deep ocean navy, nearly ebon' eyes. She folded back into him, wrapping her arms around him. She burrowed her head into his golden armor.

Theoric gently rubbed her back. "I didn't mean to startle you," he apologized. Sigyn took a deep breath as she relaxed against him. He smiled as she melted against him like butter on hot bread. Next to her, Theoric looked to be a giant. Well, okay, next to Thor he didn't look like a giant; he barely stood three inches taller than Asgard's remaining prince. He was considerably smaller than Thor in build due being only twenty years of age. Theoric had only recently begun to fill out. It was only a matter of time until his build would reflect his strong skills in close combat. But until then, Theoric had let his dirty blond hair grow pass his shoulders. His face was scruffy from the same blond hair. Along his strong jaw line on either side, Theoric had three braids, each consecutively longer as they approached his chin. Tied at the ends of the braids were small, golden rings.

Having spent so much time out in the sun's warmth training, his skin had charred, but the scars were still pale and pinkish in color. A deep scar ran vertically across his face, cutting his eyebrow in two, chipping his eyelid, slicing off a piece of his nostril, and carving deep crevices into his full lips. A second scar cut across his lower, left mandible and intersected the first scar just below his bottom lip. Both of the scars had resulted from when the frost giants had dared invaded Asgard years ago. Though they had healed on the surface, the left side of Theoric's face had a minor palsy around his lips. But wasn't ashamed of the disability. If anything, Theoric flaunted the palsy to show his bravery.

Sigyn looked up at him with her wolf-like eyes pleading at him like a doe's. "Why are you wearing your armor here? Aren't you suppose to in Odin's hall?" she inquired; her voice was full of worry; justifiably so since Theoric had never come to her in armor aside when trying to impress the impossible to impress Njord. Theoric was always casual around her, wearing baggy rich oak wood colored pants that wrinkled at his knee-high, silver lined, leather boots. Coming from a lower class family, wearing a white, linen shirt to be fancy. The sleeves were baggy before becoming tight at the forearms. Theoric would adorn his treasured, leather vest. Silver, Celtic knots were engraved along the edges of the jacket. The vest would hang loosely off of him. Though he had a belt that looped through the vest, he never tightened it. On the belt buckle was a snake's skull that had been coated in silver.

Theoric looked nothing but handsome in that outfit.

He looked terrifying and intimidating in armor.

Theoric, never being of any good at hiding his emotions, looked gravely at Sigyn. "I came for you, Sigyn," he answered. "Njord came as well as soon as we heard the news. I feared that perhaps your absence this evening wasn't your own doing but the work of Loki."

"Loki?" Sigyn gasped. Her heart froze with terror. Was her dream caused from him? She shuddered as she felt his icy words echo in her ears once more. So much hate and disappointment soaked his words for her. She was trembling next to him. Sigyn curled tighter next to Theoric, wanting his security to envelope and shield her from someone that loathed her with a bottomless passion.

He pressed her head to his chest and ran his fingers through her hand. "He's return to Asgard."

"But Heimdall—"

"Heimdall is gone, Sigyn," Theoric interrupted. He paused as he took a deep breath. "Thor went to find Heimdall, but Heimdall was no where to be found. He came to Odin's hall and told us of his findings. That's when I came here with King Njord to find you." He pressed his lips to the top of her head. "I was so worried for you," he muttered; his voice was strained but nonetheless elated. "You cannot imagine how happy I am that he hasn't lay a hand upon you, Sigyn."

Sigyn shook her head. "You need never worry of me, Theoric," she spoke. "Loki would never lay a hand upon me." The words didn't feel like a lie but neither were they the truth. She didn't know what to think of the words after encountering such a passionate Loki. Perhaps she had just dreamt him. She looked to him. The distraught in her eyes glistened. "I worry for you though; Loki _never_ liked you." Sigyn paused as new tears swelled along her eyes. "He'll come for you. Then he'll hide you somewhere in the tree where no one can find you. I've seen it."

Theoric stared at her, dumbfounded. "You've seen it?" he asked; his voice came off harsh. "When?"

"When I was little," Sigyn answered compliantly. She bent her neck down while lifting her head to him in a submissive, dog-like manner. "He-he took me one day passed his wall to show me something marvelous that he had discovered. Loki showed me a branch that had grown from the center of the Tree to here."

"And you didn't think to tell anyone about this?" he exclaimed. The anger was bubbling in his voice. He stood up and paced away, running his hand down his face. "You could be charged with treason for not telling Allfather of this, Sigyn! Then there would not be a thing I nor King Njord could do to save you!" His lip was pulled back into a snarl. He rested his forearm to the moss on a tree. Theoric took a deep, stressful breath. "We must go to Allfather now. You will tell him exactly where the branch is."

"No!" she cried.

Theoric spun around at her exclamation. "Wha—" He walked—stalked—towards her with heavy feet.

She quickly stood, backpedalling slowly. Her hands were curled into tight fists that she held at her side. She eyed him carefully like he was a beast about to jump for her throat. "I'm not going to tell anyone where the branch is," Sigyn clarified. "I gave Loki my word that I would _never_—"

"Loki is _our _enemy!" Theoric interrupted.

"No he is not!" she spat. "He is a good man!"

"Good? He would have Allfather killed!" he growled. He cornered Sigyn into a cluster of trees. She stood frozen, her muscles ready to spring into action in a heartbeat. Theoric only stood taller, squaring off his shoulders, puffing out his chest, and raising his head far above hers. So much like a Vanir, Sigyn lifted her lips to expose to her teeth to him; she flicked her large ears backwards. "When will you grow up and see that not everyone is a hero, Sigyn? There are people that have no good in them, and Loki is among those. So I would suggest you reevaluate your loyalty to a traitor."

"Even though he has done no worse than Odin?" Sigyn hissed. "And do not tell me otherwise, Theoric!"

"Do not talk down to me, Sigyn," he bellowed.

"And do not talk to me like I am some child!" she screamed back to him in an ear-splitting cry. Theoric is inches away from her, breathing heavily. She met his gaze with just as much ferocity and fire. Clenching his jaw he turned his eyes away to a purple flower on the ground. Carefully bent down to cup the delicate, alien flower in his hand. The petals felt like velvet as he ran his thumb over them. He flicked his eyes Sigyn since he knew this flower to be from somewhere.

She searched the entire garden, her eyes darting from one shadow of a tree to another. "_Loki_?" she asked the air hesitantly. A warm breeze tickled her arm. Sigyn turned around and pressed her back to Theoric chest. Fear began to fill her again as his haunting taunts once again rang in her head; his angry voice tearing her heart to pieces. Theoric placed his left hand on her shoulder while reaching for his axe with his other. "If you are here, show me."

Without any hesitation, the metal baskets filled with wood that hung from the tree burst into bright, red fire.

"Coward!" Theoric shouted. "Show your true self!"

No answer came.

Sigyn flicked her eyes around as she counted the number of baskets lit, twelve. Fourteen, actually, when she counted the two that hung above hers and Theoric's heads. The fire's light reflected as bright as moonlight in her eyes. She could almost sense the smirk on the trickster's face as she realized his game. Another brush of warm air touched her bare back. "Dim one fire for a no and light another basket for a yes," Sigyn said. "There are enough baskets here to play this game." Theoric glanced down at Sigyn; she looked to him. She slid her hand on top of his.

Immediately one of the baskets burned out in a quick, brilliant blaze.

"He's not going to play," Theoric chided.

She grinned. "But he already is," she whispered excitingly. Sigyn stepped forward, leading Theoric towards the pond where they could watch all the baskets. "Loki," the girl began softly, tenderly, lovingly even. There was a mix of joy, hesitation, and pain in her voice. She felt her throat begin to tremble with new sobs. So much she wanted to ask, but her questions were so limited. "Are you okay?"

A basket went out.

Thirteen left.

"What is—" she stopped herself, realizing this would not a yes or no question. "Are you injured?"

One more basket lit.

Fourteen left.

"Do you need to see a healer?" she inquired.

Thirteen baskets were left.

"Will you show yourself?" Theoric questioned bitterly.

Twelve baskets remained.

Sigyn squeezed Theoric's hand. "Please, let me do this," she asked. "This is our game. I know how to play against someone like Loki." He sneered unhappily. "Please, Theoric? I know what questions to ask." He tightened his grip on his axe but said nothing. "Thank you," she breathed. Sigyn gently kissed his hand.

Another basket burned out.

Eleven remained.

Angrily Sigyn snorted. "I am engaged to him, Loki," she explained. "I am allowed to show affection to him. You'll have to accept that."

The one closet to them was blown out with bitterly cold breeze.

Ten.

Theoric looked worryingly towards Sigyn, but she was consumed with looking 'bout in the air for the slender man. "Are you angry with me?" she whispered.

The same basket that went out then began to glow as the embers began to breath again.

Eleven.

She felt her knees begin to weaken. Theoric slowly lowered Sigyn to the earth, as she could no longer support herself. He sat behind her protectively like a lion guarding his lioness. She curled her legs underneath herself as a painful sob came halfway out her mouth. She heard her heart crack into two pieces; one of those pieces belonged to Loki. Sigyn dearly hoped Loki could hear her glass heart shatter. Theoric squeezed her hand reassuringly. "I am sorry," she breathed, her voice barely audible; Sigyn's throat was too tight for her to make her voice any louder. "I would have come for you, Loki. I would have, but I could not. I am bound to stay here in Asgard as per the treaty between the Aesir and Vanir. You understand, no?"

Tentatively, another basket burned with a low fire.

Twelve.

A stressful, nervous, I'll-take-that smiled pulled on the edges of her lips. She mouthed a thank you. She felt Theoric growing restless. He wrapped his arm containing the axe around her abdomen possessively, protectively. She felt grateful and mad all at once. Theoric was only taunting Loki that much more. Not to her surprise, another basket was smothered.

Eleven.

"Please, Loki," she begged. "Do not be so cold. You have known about my engagement to Theoric since I was twelve. I know you do not approve of our union, but this is the only way for Njord to pay back his debt to Odin for the war. There's nothing you could have done to change this."

Another torch was darkened.

The anger and hurt was coming to the surface in a destructive tantrum. Her whole face was flushing red and purple to match her hurting eyes. "No, what?" Sigyn shouted with the last bit of strength in her voice.

Ever so softly she felt the wind touch her cheek and brush a tear.

She only cried more.

Another basket went black at her first sob.

Ten were now left.

Theoric knew himself to be overbearing at times and smothering to Sigyn, he was not, if anything, overly protective of his bride. Seeing her crying at the hands of Loki was breaking wearing down his patience. The last bit of his restraints popped. "Stop this!" Theoric yelled at last with bitter, sour anger. "Can't you see you're hurting her? I thought you cared for her!"

Another lamp began to burn, and quickly another began to burn as well; a yes to both his statements.

Twelve.

"That's some way to show your love for someone," he retorted. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

A thirteenth lamp burst into flames.

"So you are ashamed of yourself?" Theoric asked for more clarity.

Fourteen lamps were burning.

"Then stop this," he demanded.

A far lamp went dark.

They were back to thirteen lamps.

"You are a cruel individual," Theoric stated.

Twelve lamps remained.

"Come, Sigyn," he ushered. "We're getting out of here."

Eleven lamps burned.

The warrior dropped his axe as he lifted Sigyn into his arms. She was a complete wreck, both physically and emotionally. He curled his body around her to shield her from someone that could be anywhere or anything. A poor defense against someone like Loki, but at least it would slow the trickster down if he dared to touch his bride. Sigyn was sweating her stress out, making her that much harder to hold.

Two more laps were extinguished.

Nine were left.

"Too late," Theoric muttered.

Eight fires burned.

A hand on his shoulder caused Theoric to double over, Sigyn. He growled primitively like a dog. "I said no, fool," Loki whispered coldly and collectively into his ear. Theoric glanced to his side, catching the trickster stand menacingly close to them. The prince's face was grave, angry, and gaunt. There was the same hungry look in his eyes that were in Sigyn's; though, he knew for different reasons. In his hand, he held the flower Theoric had discarded. With care, he placed the flower in Sigyn's hand. With great pride he smirked.

He saw her large eyes stare at him. "Is this goodbye?" she sobbed weakly.

All the fires burned out at once.

Theoric shoved his weight towards the trickster, but he stumbled into nothing. Sigyn closed her eyes as she braced herself for impact. Theoric's foot did not fail as him as the grass beneath his feet was replaced with marble. There was plenty of light that bathed them; the moonlight reflected brightly off of Asgard's golden city walls and buildings. Bewildered and disoriented, he looked up at the gates that guarded the inner walls of the Odin's great palace. Sigyn too looked at the walls with wonder while cupping her purple flower like it was her child.

The coupled looked to each other, each asking the other the same exact question: why would Loki bring them to Odin's hall and leave?

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Well, thanks to Raggedygal, Tea, Littlelady, and Yuzu I decided to upload another chapter. I actually had a lot of fun with this one.

To clarify, Loki is also the god of fire, so I had to have him playing with fire. I know, I know, he's a Jotun and whatnot, but when has he ever conformed?

Also, according to mythology, the Vanir and Aesir did have a war. In that war, Njord and his family had to stay in Asgard forever.

So yes, more mythology in the story! Yay!

* * *

><p>On a slightly random note, I was thinking of actors to cast as Sigyn and Theoric.<p>

Well, there are not too many people who looked like Sigyn, so I chose Bella Thorne. I figure they could make her look like Sigyn in this story; kind've like how they did in Splice with that actress.

As for Theoric, I went for Alex Pettyfer because he has the same facial and body structure.


	4. Chapter 4

**_So I Heard the Rumors_**

* * *

><p>Sigyn was dazed, still sorting through her emotions. She wasn't sure whether she was happy that Loki was here in Asgard alive or terrified that his return would only yield more chaos. In that regard, she never imagined she would actually fear Loki. Oh yes, he was the god of mischief and had chosen her a victim of a few of his pranks, but never had he been outwardly cruel for cruelty's sake. No, he was only cruel when someone wronged him. Sigyn had not wronged him; she could not have fulfilled her promise without causing pain to her father's frail heart. She didn't want to be exiled when her father would draw his last breath or be his only child absent when he needed his children the most.<p>

But that needle Loki had threaded into her heart when he placed that purple flower into her hands only dug its way deeper, causing a sharp, staggering pain that left her bleeding, gasping, and dying. Sigyn prayed Loki only felt a tenth of the pain he had inflicted upon her. There was no way in all of the World Tree that he couldn't. Their relationship ran too deeply into their souls for one to inflict a pain upon the other that they them self couldn't feel.

But maybe she was wrong…

The years had come and gone and people changed; she changed, and he changed.

Loki, oh dear Loki, he was not the same playful boy-prince that was the life of Asgard's court. He didn't look like her prince. The youthful sheen in his eyes was gone; his hair longer, unkempt; and he just seemed older and colder. Oh sure to everyone else he seemed to be his old self, but to Sigyn, these small facets made him a total stranger. She could only describe the feeling as if she were meeting a stranger.

She shuddered at the thought that she might have lost her better half.

"Are Theoric's words true, Sigyn?" Allfather inquired. He was stoic as ever in his golden throne. For that trait, Sigyn was both grateful and angry. She was grateful because she knew in her heart that any complaints he would have against her would have reduced her to ash and tears, and angry because this was his son they were speaking of! Did he care so little for Loki that he was not worth one tear? But she didn't have the heart to look him in the eye. She barely had enough strength left inside her bones to keep her kneeled before her king.

"Yes, Theoric's words are as true as the sky is blue on Midgard, Allfather," Sigyn muttered. Theoric too knelt beside her, but unlike her, he was accustomed to this humiliation. She could feel his shame for her in each breath he took, in every pulse of his heart, and in every muscle that twitched beneath his golden armor. His stare felt like bits of burning gold were raining down upon her skin, burning through her flesh, and cooling around her paper bones. "Allfather?" she breathed.

"You may speak, Sigyn," he coaxed.

She rested her wolf eyes on Frigga. In typical Aesir fashion, she was not permitted near Odin's throne. Instead she had to isolate herself on two steps lower than him; though, by the way Frigga dared not look Odin in the eye, she could have been across the universe. The goddess' hair was pulled back to reveal her skin on her left shoulder and hid the skin on the opposing shoulder. She wore a cream dress with a high collar made out of gold. A matching breastplate gave the elder goddess a shapely, younger form. Over that Frigga had a beige robe that dragged behind her on the floor. The forearms had tan and gold wrappings that made the fabric tight against her skin. A long, golden broach that rested against the top of her breasts brought together the robe.

Frigga, mother of Thor and Loki, did not act like a mourning mother. She seemed detached, uninterested, emotionless, and aloof. She didn't once look either in the eye but focused on the fires' shadows. Sigyn wanted to get up and scream at the goddess. Of anyone in the royal family, Frigga should have been beside her. Didn't a mother's love transcend passed blood? "I do not regret not telling for it is not my place to tell; that belongs to Prince Loki _Odinson_."

Her king looked upon her with skeptical eyes. Sigyn shrunk her head back to her abdomen. The deep rumble of Allfather's staff rattled her bones as it did the room. Odin stood to his full height, and she felt smaller beneath him like an unworthy maggot about to be squished underneath his heel. "Loki does not belong to this realm anymore, Sigyn," he stated slowly, as if she needed the extra seconds for his words to absorb into her mind. He regally and with heavy steps descended down the steps till she could see his golden boots underneath her eyes. "I acknowledge your loyalty and praise you for your loyalty. You need not prove that anymore; no one shall doubt your loyalty to those you love."

Sigyn closed her eyes. "Forgive me, Allfather, but I feel the need to prove my loyalty more to him than ever since he is unwell," Sigyn spoke calmly. To her own surprise, her voice didn't tremble like her body but was a strong as the wall Loki had erected in Asgard. She gripped Loki's ring in her hand, feeling every one of the hundreds of strands leave an impression in the middle of her sweaty palm. With a deep breath, she slid the ring back over her ring finger before cupping her violet flower. Mustering an inner strength she didn't know she had, Sigyn rose to her feet.

Theoric was looking towards her with large, owl eyes, as was Frigga. She heard him catch his breath. Sigyn stood as tall as she could, lifting her large head as high as her sickly thin neck would allow. Frigga was moving slowly down the steps, cautious not to tip over Odin. She didn't care about Theoric's pleading eyes that begged her to kneel back down before their king. Odin's forehead twitched more and more the longer she stood before him as an insolent maiden. "As long as I am here, Loki shall belong to this realm," she breathed. "In my presence, he shall always have a place in Asgard."

"If you harbor Loki, then I shall have no other choice than to send you away to Hel's keep," Odin threatened. "I will not allow the nine realms to become victim of Ragnorak."

"But Those Who Sit Above In Shadow already showed you that Ragnorak will occur, Allfather," Sigyn protested. "There is nothing you can do to prevent Ragnorak from occurring." Odin looked genuinely shocked at her statement. Frigga looked frantically towards her husband with a thousand questions in each eye and only one on her lips. "And just because you sent Thor to Midgard to make him less predictable does not mean you have avoided Ragnorak. Oh sure, you have provided brief entertainment to Those Who Sit Above In Shadow, but already the pawns are falling back into their proper place. The events leading up to Ragnorak are already occurring without your knowledge."

"How do you know about _them_?" he spat.

"You think you are the only one who knows of them and their parasitic ways?" Sigyn asked rhetorically. "I knew exactly why you sentenced Thor to Midgard, Allfather. You can fool everyone, but you cannot fool me. Every action you have taken since the final stand at Jotunheim has been to prevent Ragnorak and to prevent the cycle from occurring again. I shall tell you once _again_, you shall fail. No amount of wisdom can outwit them, Allfather."

"You do not know that, Sigyn," Odin retorted.

"Yes, I do, Allfather," she corrected. "Otherwise, the cycle would have ended long_, long_ ago." With a deep, mournful, stressful, and half sob breath, Sigyn turned her back to the king. She rested her eyes upon the flower. The velvet feel of its sharp nine petals against her skin was cool like the ocean and delicate like the branches that connected all the realms together. "I am sorry, Allfather. I do not mean to lash out or call you a fool; you are anything but a fool. I know you sacrifice much to prevent Ragnorak; sending Balder and his brothers to another family; siring child by Jorth so he would have the strength of a giant; adopting Loki for an alliance, sometimes considering him your son and other times your brother; and losing all of them, Frigga included, in your madness to stop Ragnorak."

She walked towards the great door that kept Thor and his friends on the other side. She stopped once he reached the great doors. The inner strength she had held felt when she stood was gone, replaced with a deep sadness that stung as bitter as ever. "I am sorry that I am the bearer of bad news, Allfather, but this time—this cycle—I feel you should know," Sigyn spoke. "I do not want you to die a lonely man _again_."

"How do you even know of this?" he asked. His voice was mixture of concern, anger, and curiosity. When she was silent, Odin aggressively stalked her. "Have you too conversed with them?" Now his voice was desperate. Frigga was by his side, her hand atop his shoulder.

"No," Sigyn replied frankly. "I have never met them, but I have condemned them many times over, done what I could to stop them, and I have failed each time. Needless to say, Allfather, I realize they are our gods. What they decree to happen to us is unstoppable." She glanced over her shoulder at Odin, Theoric, and Frigga. There was so much pity in her eyes that if it were water, they would all easily drown. "The most I can do in each cycle is to offer those I love most loyalty, forgiveness, love, and in the end, comfort as they all die in my arms."

Odin was silent, chewing on her words. He sighed, forfeiting a battle he could not win. "You are still such a child," their king spoke somberly. "I pity you." Sigyn turned her head away from him. "You are dismissed." The golden doors before her began to open. Thor was sitting on the ground with Sif standing beside him; she was as proud and on guard as ever. Hogun and the rest of his trio were on Thor's left side. Of course, Thor looked to his father, straight through Sigyn as if she were not there.

How many times had Thor stared straight through Loki?

Did Thor even realize he did such an act?

Sif was the only one of the four to watch Sigyn plod off barefoot down the hall. She looked to the side as Theoric moved quickly after Sigyn's fading shadow. "Don't even bother, Theoric," she commented. He stopped, looking to the warrior maiden. "The only one she will listen to will be Loki. She shall see him like the rest of us then."

He released a deep breath, with it came the tip of his frustration and concern. The scars along his face only enhanced his sullen expression. The rings at the ends of his beard rattled as he turned to Sif. "She shall never," he explained matter-of-factly. "She sees him as a completely different person than us. She once told me, to understand Prince Loki, you must see him through her eyes, but no one but she can see him the way she does. I fear she will only grow more sympathetic for him because of this. He will use that loyalty against her."

"She is a stupid child," Sif sneered coldly.

"And she is my bride, Lady Sif," Theoric added.

"I suggest you take another," she retorted. She brushed passed him as the rest of the trio and Thor moved into the hall to talk with Allfather. Theoric nervously smiled at her comment, but Sif's face was serious. She wasn't kidding. He was frightened by her frankness. He disliked that look in her eye that she knew better than him, but loathed the fact that she was right. As she disappeared behind the golden gates to Odin's throne room, Theoric turned to see Sigyn's shadow, but her shadow was missing.

Her shadow was far away from Odin's hall. Caught underneath the full moon, the world was bright, and made as bright as day with her wolf eyes. The world here was quiet. People were restlessly hiding inside their houses, as they feared the worse. Even the owls were silent this fair evening. She walked unafraid in the darkness. Her feet no foot prints in the fine dust that caked the Asgardian markets. The trek seemed to Loki's Hall seemed quicker without any distractions. Just hearing the soft roll of the waves onto the beach was pleasant and homely.

Home…

She casted her eyes in the direction of the hostage-king's hall with want. Sigyn could count on both hands and one foot how many times she had left her father's hall. The occasions were few and far apart, mostly due to the fact that Njord enjoyed keeping her sheltered. A small fraction of Sigyn never needed to leave her father's hall since Loki frequented the Vanir sanctuary at least once a week. She never felt the need to leave since Loki would always come back; he was reliable like that. He always made time to come visit her, even if only to converse for an afternoon.

But now… Now she felt the need to move, not stay.

He left her restless and impatient for more.

Praise the gods, but she felt like a child more than ever.

For once, Sigyn felt needed to be the one to make the journey to Loki's hall. The walk there would be long, taking most of the night. The morning sun would begin to rise on her by the time she placed the first foot on the golden step.

Loki's hall was set off away from the bustling streets of Asgard. The forests of Asgard had overshot their boundaries and were beginning to hide the front of the golden building. If anything, Sigyn was sure Loki would have been proud. He would have been happy that his hall was even more secluded. Sigyn was. She felt the place was more enchanted and peaceful. The place seemed all the more like a home away from home. Well, this place was her home away from home. On those two hands and one foot that she had left her father's hall, two-thirds of those times had been to come here.

Those fond times seemed like a lifetime ago.

Well, maybe it had been since they both changed.

She placed hand upon the heavy, gold door. In a green, metallic metal was Loki's clan symbol engraved onto the doors. She traced her fingers over the metal, revealing its soft texture. Warm tears pooled along the rims of her eyes. Her lead heart was pressing on her lungs but racing and pounding as hard as his son's eight hooves on dry earth. Cupping the flower in one hand, she placed her palm on the door. The door slid open with the silent command. Sigyn slip inside too quickly.

Loki's hall was different than any hall. The golden walls on the outside were a one-way mirror; inside the walls were clear, rippling like water on a clear day. The floor was made out of smooth gold like Odin's hall. Surprisingly—well, to anyone but Sigyn—there was very little decoration in the hall. There were floating lamps that emitted a strange, azure glow that never went out unless commanded. Next to the door was an ebon' metal rack where one could hang their stallion's tack, their weapons, or clothing. A thick layer of dust coated the rack, causing her a deep pain in the abdomen. She dragged her finger along the dust as she walked farther in his hall.

Here, just like the Vanir, Loki had done away with the walls for open space. To many this facet would not make sense since he enjoyed the shadows. Oh, but to Sigyn, every thing made perfect sense. Why would the trickster need any walls here? He and Sigyn were the only ones to ever enter here. Well, they were the only permitted here; even guards were not allowed here. Loki had traded guards for powerful enchantments. On more than one occasion, Thor had received the blunt of those enchantments when he would try to break down the door into his brother's hall. Thor never did succeed, which only gave Loki that much more confidence that here in his hall, he was safe anyone.

There were many levels to Loki's hall but no steps. The trickster used simple teleportation to get to each level. The floors above were made out of the same, strong as gold but acted like water substance. The furniture's' shadows from above were casted down onto the golden she walked. She glanced up to see the bottom of Loki's favorite lounging chase. She could imagine him lying on the soft, wolf fur as his eyes devoured the words on the parchment. Or, Sigyn remembered perfectly, sitting in between his legs, her back against his chest, and the top of her head barely reaching his collarbone, as he would read off the words to her. Loki would stop reading to glance down at a child Sigyn. She would stare up at him in amazement and wonder. Literature, or even being literate, was not a valued trait among the Vanir. She always found the way he deciphered the squiggly lines incredibly wonderful. Such simple abilities that he took for granted she found amazing.

Sigyn would have considered Thor even godlier if she knew he too could read.

Arriving at the center of the hall, she looked fondly at the scrawny tree that had blossomed into a hearty, thriving oak tree. A vine with white flowers as large as her head crawled up the tree and down its branches. From a strong branch to the north hung a simple swing. Sigyn had insisted, when she and Loki made the first, that they make another. Loki had said no, asking her why make another when the two of them fit so well together on just one swing. Sigyn smiled, recalling sitting on his lap while they gently swung. The two of them did fit well together. The tree was in the center of a small island, no larger than twenty or so feet in diameter. Soft, dark green grass resembled more lint than grass. A few pansies had popped up in full bloom. Motes of water, one foot in across, separated the island from the gold flooring.

The tree surpassed many of the levels Loki had created in the hall. Sigyn knew she could easily climb up one of the branches to reach the wood table with green tapestry with fresh—or now decomposed fruit. On the occasions she had been here, Loki would always bring along a rabbit or two for them to share. He would entertain her by holding the two rabbits in air with magic as he burned them to a charcoal crisp with his fire. She would watch eagerly as he manipulated the fire with such ease and natural talent. Loki would boast that he had never burned himself. After he had finished burning the rabbits to their liking, Loki would sit her on his lap while they ate. Loki, never being up to any good, would only have one cup for both of them to drink out of. No doubt if anyone knew, Odin, Frigga, and her father would condemn the two for such barbaric behavior.

But social norms were never enforced here.

This was Loki's domain, and if he wished to share his drink with Sigyn, then dammit, he was going to!

Literally a step up from the table was Loki's personal library. Instead of keeping all the scrolls and parchments contained on a shelf, he had them perfectly lined out on a long, cherry red table. Another green tapestry with gold Celtic knots for trimming cushioned the valuable literatures. They ranged from Loki's favorite fairytales to his most devious of spells. At the far end of the elongated table, was Sigyn's small chest, still full of her sewing supplies. No doubt he had left her floppy wolf pack to stand guard over the wooden and golden chest. If Loki had truly left it alone like she wished, then his plush doppelganger would still be sitting atop Fenrir.

After placing the flower beside her on the edge of the table, she squatted down and carefully lifted the plush Loki from Fenrir's back. The plush was simple enough. It had green eyes embedded into the white, sheepskin. She had slicked back the dyed, black rabbits fur using fat from a boar. He had zigzag mouth; made to represent the time he had his mouth-sewn shut. Sigyn had managed to replicate Loki's formal attire using bits and pieces of left over leather from the blacksmith. She ran her finger over the bloodstain where she had accidentally pricked her finger. Sigyn recalled how had come to her side, looked at the wound, and licked it away.

Her head became light at the memory. Sigyn had no choice but to lie down next to the chest. She curled her fingers around the doll and brought it close to her heart. She didn't want him to slip through her slick fingers again. She rested her head on the soft floor. The feeling was like that of cool water. "Loki," the girl whispered. "I am so sorry." Sigyn curled her body around the doll as she wiped her nose on her arm. Her whole body was shaking with repulse. "So, so, so, _very_ sorry." She bit her lip and losing the battle to keep her stomach in her abdomen. "I—I—I n—n—n—e-v—ver meant to abandon you," she sobbed to the doll. "I _never_ wanted to lose you. I _need_ you. I _want_ you." The heartache increases with the knowledge she was admitting this to a _doll_.

How cowardly was that?

Probably number two; just after suicide.

"I told you earlier, you shall not cry while in my presence."

Sigyn choked on the air. Ebon' dots made her vision fuzzy and obscure, but still, she pulled her eyes as far to the ceiling till she was in pain. "L—l—lo—o—"

"Shh," he hushed. With his thumb, he pushed away the tears on her cheek. "Stop that already," he spoke, his voice calm, but an underlying line of concern was there. Sigyn only shook harder; the sobs only came out louder, with more energy and force. Loki's wrinkles along his mouth and eyes only deepened. He closed his tired eyes as he let out a sigh that did little good to ease the tension in his chest. "Come here," the trickster muttered as he scooped her up into his chest. He folded around her fragile body, aware of the goose bumps that run up and down her arms and legs and the creaking of her bones.

She buried her face into Asgardian armor, right in between his elbow and chest. He held one hand behind her head while running the hand up and down her back reassuringly. Loki buried his face into her hair and breathed in her ocean, salty, sad scent. He closed his eyes at his own forgetfulness and recklessness. His body felt heavy with the weight of her sobs and her pain. That old hurt that came from between his ribs was roaring to life with a searing, fire-like pain. The trickster had forgotten how sensitive Sigyn was to him, how in tuned she was to his every emotion, and so very fragile in his presence.

It was riveting to know, to feel that their connection was alive.

And painful too…

She curled inward as her stomach began to cramp. Loki felt as Thor had kicked him in the stomach. "Sigyn, please," he begged softly. He sounded desperate. He was desperate; anything to stop the blaze she had set in his chest. Loki's breath was slow and deep while Sigyn's was labored and shallow. She was near a panic state with all her trembling. His fingers slid easily over her sweaty skin. Loki tightened his grip to prevent her from bolting. "Breath, just breath," he spoke remarkably calmly. The god found an ounce of comfort that he still could remain calm when she panicked. "I am here. I am _not_ leaving."

"You are _so_ angry with me," she sobbed.

Loki flinched at the venom in her voice. "No, I am not," he assured.

"You said you were ear—"

"I tell lots lies," the trickster answered. Loki let out a sigh into her hair. "I am everything but angry at your right now. I—I am happy to have you here." Sigyn lifted her head; her poor cheeks were flushed cherry red and puffy like a marshmallow. The girl's bottom lip was shaking uncontrollably. Bits of blood trickled down her chin from the two bite marks on her lip. "You have become an amazingly beautiful lady in my absence. You must be the envy of every woman in Asgard and the most prized among the men." She placed her cheek directly over his heart. Sigyn smeared the dribbling snot onto the top of her hand. "Theoric is a lucky man to have you as his bride."

"Y—you hate him," she muttered; half of it came out as growl.

He nodded his head. "That I do," the god admitted painfully. "You are marrying down. You should marry up to a prince." There she went; her eyes were large, her heart beating to the sound of knives, and her breathing hesitant. His green eyes fell to the floor. Loki couldn't look her in the eye when she stared at him. He felt her pain through her stare. "Forgive me. I forgot life isn't a fairytale."

"Peasants shall not marry princes," she added somberly.

"Fair ladies are not courted by monsters," Loki retorted.

Sigyn reached up with her snotty hand and cupped the side of his face. Her touch forcefully brought his covetous eyes to hers. "What you did does not make you a monster. We all make mistakes. We can all be forgiven," she stated. The doubt was etched onto his stone face. Sigyn traced his jaw line with her stick thin fingers. The rugged edge of her unkempt, gnarly nails softly scrapped his skin. Loki closed his eyes to enjoy her touch. A part of him felt almost full and relaxed; by the way her breathing had slowed, she too had to feel more relaxed. "Loki?" she asked softly.

"Yes?"

"I love you," Sigyn whispered. She pressed her lips to his armor in a soft kiss. Tiredly she rested her against him. Loki fell back onto his back with Sigyn atop him. He readjusted his arms to wrap around his favorite teddy bear. She felt his glowing smirk through his tough armor. The girl contently smiled as a wave of stability came rushing through her veins like cool water. Loki's touch burned hotter, deeper into her skin. Sigyn loved the feeling. "I love you," she added again, stronger.

He scrunched her dress among his fingers till his knuckles became as pale as Sigyn's diamond skin. Loki only wished the dress was Theoric's neck. Oh, he wanted no more than to banish the sentry to Hel's gates. It was because of the pest he couldn't reply to Sigyn's affection. The trickster knew too well the words would break _his_ Sigyn. Loki couldn't put her through anymore pain. She'd been through enough. Worse, he feared the consequences if he answered back the words that were always on his lips when he kissed her.

Oh, Loki might be tempted to sweep her off her feet and elope away with her somewhere far away from Asgard.

But what he felt in his heart only warned him that those words would end their relationship.

He would lose the one staying force in his life.

Only the gods and he knew what chaos he would unleash upon the nine realms then.

Ragnarok.

He ran a hand through her long, wavy strands of hair. She softened even more under him. The ache inside his ribs was drumming; something he had half expected to have gone away. "You should sleep," Loki suggested. "You've been awake all night. We shall when you wake."

She rolled onto her stomach, placing her head on her arms. "How do you know if I was awake all night?" Sigyn questioned. His emerald eyes glistened with mischief. She rolled her eyes, as if she expected him to ever give her a straight answer. Sigyn sighed; though she was more content with his playful behavior than angry. "Where is my purple flower?" He simply lifted both of his brows, looking at her so innocently, maybe a bit too innocently. She giggled lightly as if they were both still a child and a young man. "You are a beautiful flower. I love the feel of your petals. They are just as smooth as a fish's scale."

He chuckled. "Do not laugh! You are a beautiful flower!" Sigyn exclaimed She reached with one hand, running her fingers through his unkempt hair. Loki, as in old times, grinned with victory. He spread his smile to her lips; her puffy cheeks were sore from the curve of her lips. "You are a beautiful fish and a beautiful mare. You are beautiful man. No doubt your children will be beautiful as well." She placed her cheek against his golden collar plate.

For once, Loki fell silent. To his relief, Sigyn did not notice the clouds rolling over his eyes. He felt her chest begin to rise and fall slowly; her breaths were deep, and finally relaxed. The trickster had held her like this so many times as a child. He had always been the one to carry her back in his arms and lay her down to bed with Njord watching. Back then, he could all too easily imagine going through the same motions with his sons—two beautiful sons that Sigyn would have bore him. Of course, that would never happen.

His children would be monsters.

Just like him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** This chapter took a bit longer because I have been deciding upon a plot! I can say I have a plot that has no been used!

No, the plot is not about redemption. I do not think Loki could actually be redeemed because he, himself, cannot find any act of redemption that would be good enough to wipe away the lack of a father's love and his own disgrace about his heritage.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Mythology and Comic Time!<strong>_

* In the comics, Sigyn was engaged to Theoric, a young warrior to Odin.

* In mythology, Sigyn met Loki when she was a child. When he first met her in the Vanir gardens, he gave her a purple flower to coax her out into the open. The two quickly became friends.

* According to mythology, purple is Sigyn's favorite color.

* In mythology Loki was a man when he met Sigyn-that does make him a pedophile. Sigyn was roughly 15 when she was married; hence forth, she is fifteen in this story.

* Loki was able to visit Sigyn quite a bit because of the treaty after the Vanir-Aesir war; Njord and his family had to permanently live in Asgard.

* In mythology, Sigyn was adopted by Njord.

* Loki also gave Sigyn a ring on their wedding; which was said to be the greatest ring in all of the nine realms. He had to build a hall of his own in Asgard for Sigyn; this was part of the deal Njord made with Loki when Njord gave permission to Loki to marry his daughter.

* In the comics, the gods do have gods of their own called Those Who Sit Above In Shadow; however, Odin appears to be the only one aware of their presence. They have kept the gods in a cycle (Ragnarok) where they are constantly being reborn and killed. This also ties in with Norse mythology of everything being a cycle.

* Odin supposedly sent Thor to earth to make his son less predictable to Those Who Sit Above In Shadow. To tie this in with the movie, I figured Odin took advantage of Thor's mistake and used it as a disguise for his true purpose of sending Thor to Midgard.

* Sigyn is also considered the god of staying, loyalty, victory, and inner strength. Those who worship Loki, not Odin, claim she is also the god of forgiveness and the inner child.

* Oh! In mythology, Sigyn bore Loki two sons. I can't remember their names right now. Sorry!


End file.
